"I have had patience," she muttered, while a dangerous light shot into her eyes, "so long—so long!"
"You are a great woman, Sybil, I always admit that; but you know very well that if you left me I should have hunted you like a wolf—aha! my bird!"
The gleam in her eyes died into a look of cold terror; she extended her hand for the light, saying:
"Go down to your guests. I will follow very soon."
He gave her the candle, laughing again in that mocking way.
"Poor Sybil!" he said. "It is hard to have old memories stirred up as they have come upon you this evening."
"Stop!" she said, with a quiet resolution. "You shall not worry my life out, Philip Yates! You know there is a point beyond which I will not bear a word or look. Reach it, and though you murdered me, I would desert you!"
He gave her a glance of careless admiration, but did not annoy her further.
Yates was a remarkable-looking man as he stood there in his rough mountain dress, which was sufficiently picturesque in effect to atone for the coarseness of its materials and make.